A long time ago, back when I was in my early 20’s, I had a temp job working as an administrative assistant at a top accounting firm in Boston. I like to refer to this phase of my life as the “depths of my despair” days. After all, I was in my early twenties, I had been laid-off from my dream job at an advertising agency in San Francisco, was forced to move to Boston when my funds got depleted, and lived in the terribly boring suburbs…with my parents…in the pink, flowered, wallpapered bedroom that I had grown-up in. And to top it off, I had no car and no boyfriend. This was, without a doubt, an all-time low point for Dean. Pretty much the only good thing that I had going on for me back then, was the fact that I was working at an accounting firm…that employed a whole lot of single boys for me to date.
Even though I spent a good part of my days answering the phone and pretending to be thoroughly interested in whatever it is that people in accounting firms actually do, I spent a good number of my evenings dating all of the single boys who I worked with. I dated a beautiful English expat who spoke with the most-fantastic British accent, a somewhat boring boy who worked in the finance department, and quite a number of “tax boys”. I was even asked out by one boy who had starred in the hit reality show, “Average Joe”. I didn’t go out with this guy though. Because let’s be honest, Dean doesn’t exactlydo “average”. Besides, he was voted off in the second episode so his “averageness” wasn’t all that impressive. I have to admit though, as uninteresting as my days were while working at this job, my evenings were definitely much more fulfilling because of this job.
There was this one tax manager who I went out with who I will never forget. Let’s just say that this guy was beyond special. I use the word “special” because quite honestly there are not a whole lot of other words that I could come up with to describe this guy. I’ll refer to him as Richard because…well the name is just fitting on so many levels. Richard never starred in a reality TV show but he did have his own list of impressive credentials. He was an attractive, suit-wearing, Boston-accent speaking, athletic-type, tax attorney who also just so happened to serve as a captain in the military (in his spare time). Let’s face it. On paper Richard was a catch! And he was by no means “average” like so many of the other boys I worked with. So of course, when Richard joined the flock of boys who used to line up at my cubicle each day just to “say hello”, I immediately knew that he was someone who I’d have to allow to come up to the front of the line.
As you can imagine, I was all kinds of excited when Richard finally decided to make his move and ask me out. He asked me out for a “din-ah” date one evening after work. (I simply swooned at the way he couldn’t pronounce his “R’s”.) And when he finally asked me out, I did what any other girl in my shoes would have done after being asked out by a “big deal” accounting firm boy; I envisioned our wedding day together and called up all of my girlfriends to brag to them about my future husband. Richard and I were to have a military-themed wedding on the beach, FYI.
On the morning of our big “din-ah” date, I made sure that I looked my absolute best. I straightened my hair, applied a little extra bronzing powder on my cheeks, dressed in my most-flattering Thomas Pink button down shirt, and even pre-arranged for my dad to pick me up at the train station a little later than usual that night…(Remember, now. I was living at home…with my parents….and with no car. The only way to get to my house in the suburbs was to have one of my parents pick me up. It was awesome on SO many levels.)
Being the big deal that Richard was at the office, I had assumed that he would be taking me to one of Boston’s finer restaurants for our “din-ah” date. And all day, I had my mind set on ordering a nice piece steak from the fancy menu. I mean, after all, when a successful accounting firm boy asks you out, it’s important to go for one of the more expensive items on the menu. Also, I have been told that boys love girls who eat meat. I wonder why this is, exactly?
Richard picked me up at my cubicle for our big date. And as we walked side-by-side through the streets of Boston together, I grew more and more excited about the savory steak dinner that I was about to devour. My thoughts, however, were quickly interrupted as we walked into…TGI Friday’s. Upon realizing where I was, I thought for a brief second, that perhaps we were stopping off at this chain restaurant so that Richard could use the restroom. I mean clearly, this successful accounting firm boy wasn’t about to take me a to a chain restaurant for our “din-ah” date, right???
My initial thoughts about Richard could not be any more off! TGI Friday’s was exactly where Richard had intended to take me on our date. It was at that moment, when we were seated at a booth toward the back of the restaurant, that I realized that perhaps Richard wasn’t the man I was going to marry after all. And my plan to eat a nice steak for dinner was sadly no longer a reality. Instead, I found myself lightly picking at a dish of deep fried potato skins (with bacon bits) that somehow managed to find its way to our table. And to make matters even worse, he ordered for me! And I am not talking about the kind of ordering where the boy asks you what you would like and then places the order on your behalf. I am talking about the kind of ordering where the boy doesn’t ask you what you like and just takes the liberty of ordering for you. It was awful.
But then after our miserable dinner, the unthinkable happened. We had talked about Richard walking me to the train station after our meal together. But he wanted to change into more comfortable clothes before heading to the station so he asked me if we could make a quick stop at his apartment first. Being the naive, 20-something girl that I was at the time, I agreed to accompany him to his apartment. After all, I was curious to see the inside of Richard’s apartment and to see how a VIP accounting firm boy like himself lived.
Once arriving at his place, Richard gave me a brief tour of his impressive one bedroom apartment that was perfectly located on some quaint, little, tree-lined street in Boston’s Back Bay district. He offered me a glass of water and handed me a photo album to peruse through before he disapeared into his bedroom to change his clothes. He called out to me as he was shutting the door to his bedroom, “Take a look at these photos. It’s an album of me and my buddies from our college days.”
And let’s just say that this wasn’t simply just a photo album of him and his college friends. It was more of an album of him, his college friends…and their willies. I’m not even kidding! This photo album was filled with hundreds of photographs of penis’. I am talking ding-a-lings, schlongs, and peckers of all shapes and sizes! My virgin eyes could not comprehend in the slightest what they were being exposed to!
At that moment, I knew that I had to get out of Richard’s apartment. I mean let’s face it. A guy who is capable of taking a girl to TGI Friday’s and creating a photo album filled with ding-dongs, is probably not a guy who I should ever consider taking home to mom and dad.
Before Richard ever had the chance of coming out of his bedroom, I quickly snuck out of his apartment without so much as saying a word to him. And, for the first time in a long time that year, I was actually really happy to have my dad pick me up after our date. I felt even more comforted that night when I went to sleep in my own twin bed…in my parents’ home….in the suburbs.
To this day, I still have no idea what possessed Richard to show me his album full of wieners. He and I never really talked again after our “din-ah” date. And after his little showdown, I obviously felt the immediate need to call off our imaginary wedding.
Because in the end, Richard proved himself to be a real “Dick”.